by JL Madore
Electricity arced in the air, raising goosebumps on her skin. No strings. Enjoy him, let him enjoy her, and then get back to reality. Zander’s muscles bunched and released under her hands and she wanted to scream.
How could she possibly be so turned on by a stranger?
Zander pressed his palms into the bed and swayed forward, parting her. He slid inside her torturously slow, giving her body time to adjust. She gasped at the invasion and then, as the pinch eased, arched to take him all the way. The sweet sting stretched her to the point of straining. And then he began to move.
Oh, sweet Texas.
The first few glides in and out had him buried to the base of her pulsing core. As he increased the pace, the sense of invasion intensified. She wrapped her legs around the backs of his thighs and locked on his hips. Moving as one, their frenzy gained momentum. He was all male, virile, demanding and passionate.
“How we doing, cowgirl?”
She stared at his blue silhouette and brushed his wavy hair along the line of his brow. Connected like this, she could see every inch of him. The hunger blazing in his eyes. The twisted ecstasy in his expression. Breathtaking.
Running her fingers over his features she memorized all his harsh angles. The tight clench of his jaw, the broad span of his back, the muscled cords of his ribs and hips. A military commander mounting for siege—and she was his Blitzkrieg.
She arched, tension building, bringing her closer to climax with every hungry stroke. He felt incredible inside her, ribbed and powerful, hitting her deep and hard. She saw him, saw his need, saw his passion. Her breath quickened as her release hit.
A growl escaped his lips and his hips pounded on.
Lost in their connection, she almost missed noise outside the room. The voice rang hard and serious. “We need to talk.”
Had someone knocked? Zander didn’t seem to notice or was too preoccupied to care. Another round of knocking, this time a real pounding on the door. “Zander! Stop what you’re doing and get your ass out here.”
Zander lifted his head and shouted over his shoulder. “Fuck off, Danel. Later.”
“Forget later. This is life and death. Yours.”
Austin froze, the dreamy spell broken. “Should you see what he needs?”
He paused for a moment, breathing hard. Bending lower, he reclaimed her mouth and continued. Her body welcomed the onslaught and she wrapped her arms around his—
“I hate that you made me do this, Z.” Danel strode into the room and approached the bed.
Zander rolled to the side, pulled the comforter over her, and lunged to his feet. He aimed his strange, glowing knife at Danel’s chest. “Get out of my quarters or I’ll fucking gut you!”
Electricity bristled the hair on her skin. The air was alive. A cyclone of energy swirled, flinging her hair around her face. The thud of thundering footfalls pounded up the hall followed by the click of Stetson’s nails on the hardwood.
“Oh shit.” Kyrian and the dog burst through the doorway.
Zander shifted to block her. “Both of you. Out! Before I do something, I won’t regret.”
“This is no picnic for me either, Commander.” Danel scrubbed his palm over his face. “I’ve been up all night researching and we need some face time.”
“It can wait twenty minutes.”
“Not if those twenty minutes are spent sexing the human, it can’t.” The word human dripped off his tongue like he equated her to a festering plague.
Zander stiffened and light bulbs exploded like glass bombs. Austin screamed, shielding her face. Shrapnel crackled to the floor around the room. Zander glowed brighter. His entire body bared to her in all its naked glory.
“Z, calm down.” Kyrian forced his face into the path of Zander’s vision. “You’re pissed. We all feel how pissed you are. This was a majorly stupid intrusion, but what Danel found must be important. Lower the blade, my brother and let’s hear him out.”
The air swirled malevolent. The tingling on Austin’s skin burned. With all the yelling, she both felt and watched things unfold. As horrible as it was, it was amazing at the same time.
“Look at me and regain control, Zandros.” Kyrian broke into a long rant in the beautiful language the spoke with one another. He droned on and on in even tones. Austin didn’t understand the words but recognized the intent. Her Daddy talked many a spooked stallion down using that tone.
“That’s it. That’s right,” Kyrian said after a long while. He leaned closer, his palms held up in the air between them. “Danel crossed a line, no argument, but you don’t want to hurt him. Despite your differences, you don’t. Drop the blade, my man.”
Austin watched the glowing blade perched in the air. With Danel quiet, the weapon just pointed into the open air beside Kyrian as he spoke.
Kyrian stepped closer and tried again. “Wherever you are right now, fight your way back. This isn’t you. Lock it down. Give me the dagger and cool off a minute. Let’s figure out what’s happening.”
When it seemed like Zander might never back down, he finally stepped back. “Both of you. Out of my sight. Give us a minute in private.”
“You’ve got thirty seconds or I’m boomeranging—”
Zander surged forward as Kyrian wrangled Danel. The two of them grunted and cussed, struggling until Danel caught Kyrian in the face and his head snapped back with a crunch. Kyrian spun him around and clamped a rough arm around his throat, dragging him to the door.
“Danel and I will be in the dining room,” Kyrian said, his muscles flexing and bulging as he gained some distance inch by grueling inch. “Sorry about the drama, sweetheart. S’all good, though, see, s’all good.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Zander waited for his bedroom door to latch before he allowed his muscles to unlock. If Danel had still been in the room—no telling what he would’ve done. Kyrian meant well but was dangerously wrong. Zander did want to hurt Danel.
He wanted to do more than hurt him.
The bed creaked as he ass-planted onto the mattress edge. Resting his palms on his knees, he dropped his head forward and sucked in a few long, deep breaths. The darkest part of his soul writhed within, demanding blood, demanding he protect Austin’s honor after such an intrusion. His hands were steady, his mind set on securing what was his.
He cursed. Austin wasn’t his. Could never be.
Shaking his head, he pushed down his mind-spin and focused on control. Focused on getting his respiration deep and slow. Deep and slow. He visualized the tethers binding the dangerous part of himself threatening to break free. He secured his hold, bound the dark souls polluting him tighter than ever before.
A biting electrical current raced over his skin, raising the hair on his arms. His energy was way off. And that hum in his head? Yeah, it had returned with a vengeance, slamming into his skull like a wrecking ball.
What the hell was wrong with him?
More with the breathing. Deep . . . and . . . slow.
He grabbed his pants off the floor and stomped his legs into them. It was all he could manage not to storm out into the dining room and gut Danel.
“Zander, please say somethin’,” Austin said, her panicked gaze flitting around the space.
“Shit, I’m sorry, cowgirl.” The bed creaked as sat next to her and squeezed her trembling hands. She looked small and fragile in his massive bed. An illusion, he knew. She was tougher than she looked, tougher than she realized. Even so, he hated that he’d been the one to make her feel powerless. Again. “The last thing I want is to frighten you.”
“No. You didn’t—”
He pressed a finger against her lips. “I can smell your fear, it’s an acrid burn in my sinuses. After everything you endured the past few days, you shouldn’t have to be afraid here. Not with me, and not of me.”
She raised her hand and stroked his cheek, her eyes bright and clear. “I’m fine. Are you all right? You were really mad. Like really mad.”
Danel’s insubordination p
issed him off, but what threw him over the cliff was the lack of respect for Austin. “I want to ram my dagger through his eye socket and out the back of his skull.” There wasn’t one ounce of hyperbole in his statement and the way Austin tightened the sheets around herself, she knew that he meant every word. Good. She needed to realize she’d been having sex with a violent bastard.
Well, wasn’t this a Norman Rockwell moment.
He stroked her welted wrists. The wounds from the handcuffs had faded but still turned his stomach. She was frightened because of him. Had been tortured because of him. Even if he had nothing to do with it, his violent world put her in danger. Always would.
The laws were absolute. Nephilim were too volatile to have romantic entanglements and humans too frail. As soon as they found the Shedim who kidnapped her and killed Tanek, Austin would be sent back to her life.
Rubbing the tightness gripping his chest, he dropped his head forward and sucked in a few more deep breaths.
Shit. The past twenty-four hours had gone sideways. This heat sizzling between them—no matter how erotic—added a layer of complication neither one of them needed. For shit’s sake, she’d been abducted and left naked in a kill-zone. Of course, she’d be rattled. And what had he done—put the moves on and ended up with her legs wrapped around his waist.
Fuck. He truly was a bastard.
“I’m sorry you got caught up in whatever that was. I don’t know what crawled up Danel’s ass. He’s an angry SOB at the best of times, but he’s usually tight.”
She slid to the edge of the bed beside him, the smooth, tanned flesh of her thigh peeking out from beneath his sheets. “He doesn’t like humans much.”
“Ugly childhood.”
A long silence rose between them, but he didn’t know what to say to get back to the intimacy they’d been enjoying. Maybe he never would.
She patted his leg and looked up at him. “If this behavior is out of character, give him the benefit of the doubt until you hear him out. He seemed quite worked up.”
Zander pulled back and took a long hard look. Her fear hadn’t dissipated all together, but the smile she offered slew him. “Let’s get you cleaned up and find your clothes. I’m not sure where I tossed them.”
He strode into the bathroom, tossed the condom and brought a warm, damp cloth back for her. Then he scooped Stetson up from the floor and plopped the ninety-pound ball of chocolate fur beside her. His reward: a pink tongue slapping up his neck and a rapid-fire smack of his tail on the bed. “I’ll go see what’s up Danel’s ass. Feel free to shower, soak in the Jacuzzi, or lounge in bed. Whatever you like.”
Turning away to give her some privacy, he wasted no time pulling on his clothes and gathering his weapons. He had every intention of leaving her and her dog to sort themselves out until he looked back. Her long chestnut hung hair tousled in the sexiest way, her lips still pink and a little swollen from their wake-up session.
“You look damn good in my sheets, cowgirl.” He knew the moment she could see him because her eyes widened and locked on him. Drawn by an unstoppable force, he leaned over her, tilted her head back and claimed her bottom lip. Gently, he lingered at her mouth, playing, brushing over her velvet lips. “Thank you for before. Feel free to fall asleep on my bed anytime.”
Each time they kissed, heat exploded between them, and now that he’d had her wrapped around his hips it burned so much hotter. Gas on flame. The perfect storm.
She ended their kiss and flopped back onto the bed, breathless and flushed. “Go, before Danel comes back and gets another eyeful.”
Zander growled. Danel should never have gotten an eyeful of her gloriously undone and hot as hell. That was private. “I apologize, again. Him intruding was unforgivable.”
Austin sat before him beautifully naked and unabashed. Worrying her bottom lip she shook her head. “I’m not worried about modesty. I am, however, concerned about all the glass I heard shatter when you had your meltdown. My feet are still sore from yesterday. Could you help me to the bathroom and bring my sneakers from the spare room, please?”
“That I can do.” Austin squealed as he scooped her up and carried her to the ensuite, nipping the soft round of her shoulder. He felt like he could bench-press an SUV, carrying her naked, with permission this time.
Oh, the sacrifices he made in the line of being a good host.
“Sorry about the nose, Greek,” Danel said, glancing up from where Kyrian had ass-planted him amongst the ancient texts he’d poured over all morning.
Kyrian stretched his face and gave his head a shake. The guy’s hair flipped around and then fell perfectly back in place. He tossed a bloody cloth in the wastebasket, his nose straightened and already healing. “No worries. Tensions are high annnd you hit like a girl.”
Danel snagged his coffee off the table and glared at the empty hallway back toward Zander’s bedroom. “How long does it take for him to cover his ass and get out here?”
“As long as it takes.” Kyrian dug beneath the scroll mountain heaped on the mile-long dining table and pulled an aged tome closer. “You said your peace and we narrowly escaped being struck by lightning. Let him simmer down before round two. What was that about anyway? You find something about his mark glowing?”
With one finger Danel scanned the faded text before him. “There’s no search engine for the Dead Sea Scrolls that says, ‘when your leader turns into a giant night-light you’re in deep shit’. I’m working on it, though.”
Kyrian leaned back and scowled at the ceiling. “I hate this. Not knowing. The men upstairs must know who the Cherub is by now and possibly why she came down. Would it kill them to share a little?”
Generally, no contact with the archangels was a blessing. Not these days.
“What I want to know,” Danel said, “is how the hell Zander ended up unconscious while Tanek was taken, and why he’s in there polishing his rocks with the human when he should be tracking down the Shedim. His duty is to Tanek and this garrison. He’s way too smart to be this fucking stupid.”
Kyrian grunted. “I wouldn’t lead with that if I were you.”
Danel heard the warning buried in Kyrian’s tone. Despite their bound existence, the Greek was a refined SOB. Danel had never understood the bond between him and a Molotov cocktail warrior, like Zandros of Kish.
Kyrian flipped open his lighter and lit up. From the exotic blend of the tobacco he rolled, to his designer wardrobe, to his sense of honor in battle, the guy was solid. No extremes. So, if Kyrian was worried about Z, then they should all be worried.
A door closed at the end of the hall and Kyrian raised a brow and exhaled. “Keep it calm, Danel. Keep to the facts. Highlight what you know and avoid your opinions about the woman. Remember, he’s our commander now.”
Danel rolled his eyes as Zander’s heavy footfalls drew closer. Tanek had been a great commander. A real leader. He doubted Zander could rise to be worthy of polishing his vest, let alone inspire loyalty. The garrison stood on shaky ground and the future on the horizon made him itch.
Kyrian threw him a scowl. “I wouldn’t fight back if I were you. You crossed a big line.”
Danel cursed and waited. This was going to suck. Zander would rip him a new one, and Kyrian was right, he needed to take the hit.
When the Sumerian barreled in, Kyrian moved to the side and stayed clear.
Danel braced for impact and hit the wall hard. Zander slammed him back, the drywall buckling to the curve of his skull as his brain rattled. A Group of Seven oil painting clattered to the floor, the frame splintering as it landed on its corner and spiraled beneath the table.
Zander’s dagger arced through the air like a missile, sinking with a hollow thunk into the drywall beside Danel’s ear. Whether protocol, pride or bull-headed stubbornness had taken Danel over, he didn’t make one move to defend himself.
Zander slammed an iron hand into his sternum, gripped his jaw and leaned close. “Enter my quarters again and it better be with an engraved f
ucking invitation, otherwise, the next dagger won’t be twanging in sheetrock. I’ll sink it into your nut sac and twist until you beg for death. Are we clear, Persian?”
“Crystal. Next time I’ll let you get your grind on and wash my hands of the whole mess.”
“Watch your mouth.”
The loss of oxygen brought white spots to block his vision. The lights flickered. Shit. The guy was off the rails. With a steel forearm pinned against his throat, Danel let the message sink deep. “Yeah, I hear you, Z.”
When the hold released, Danel leaned against the wall for support. Laws of conduct were instituted for good reason. Nephilim held together the structure of existence, the living, breathing architecture of the Otherworld. Zander was garrison commander. Danel needed to follow orders whether he liked it or not.
“What’s this life or death discovery you need to share?” Zander rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers in and out.
Danel extracted himself from the wall and put the width of the table between them. “I reviewed Nephilim law, specifically those forbidding emotional intimacy with humans.”
“And?”
He thrust his chin forward and met his commander’s glare head on. “I think you’ve been enthralled by the human. You’re not yourself. I think you’re being manipulated into breaking your covenant with the Choir.”
Zander tightened his hands into white-knuckled fists. “And?”
“And what? You were glowing in that warehouse when you found her. You were glowing again in your bed with her just now. You’re distracted and off point—”
“I’m fine.”
“Bullshit. If you think I didn’t notice the woman come up the elevator with Kyrian, when she was supposed to be secured in your guest room, you’re dreaming. You sent her out of reach. Our world is collapsing and you’re more concerned with the safety of one sheep than the directives that govern our existence.”
Zander jabbed a silver-ringed finger at him. “I don’t answer to you. I’m in charge and I’m telling you, the woman is a moot point. Sex doesn’t violate duty. She poses no threat.”